Lost Session Number One: Silver Star Sonata
by Bourgeois Babe
Summary: Takes place near the end of the series, spoilers ahead. A reroute of the BeBop, a very smelly Faye in a bad situation in Spike's bed? Read and find out... FS, all the way! Chap 4 up finally. Sorry bout the delay.
1. Chapter One: The Murderous Angel

_I think it's time to blow this thing, get everybody and their stuff together…okay, 3…2…1…let's jam._

_(Okay, okay, enough of the intro, it's nothing like the kick ass jazz from the show. Here's my own little set of credits. I don't own Cowboy Bebop, which is hella obvious, seeing as though I'm a 15 year old from the U.S…Anyways, if I did own it, you'd be able to tell because Faye and Spike would have been together by now. And added to that, Gren wouldn't have his little 'problem'. But, I don't, and they haven't and Gren is still a man/woman…v.v" Whee! Alright, let's do this thing. This is dedicated to Chelsey and Kim, you both like this show more than I do, so this is more for you.)_

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Anyone could have easily confused her with a real angel. She was beautiful, with pale skin and flowing silver hair, her eyes a sparkling blue as clear as the waves of the sea. Yet, her clothing gave her away. Nothing more than a bounty hunter, as her baggy pants and tank top suggested. 

With gestures as smooth and gentle as one could be, she reached into her oversized leather jacket, pulling out a cigarette, lodging it between her lips. Quickly, her hand flicked outward, and open came her zippo, the flame burning on the end of the paper. Just as swiftly as she had taken it out, she replaced it in her pocket.

Her breath of smoke came out slowly, clouding with the rest of the haze above her. It was different, with a tint of cocoanut flavor in it. It was a strange scent, but somehow hypnotizing to any around her.

"Excuse me, lovely, but I couldn't help but notice you came in here all alone! Well, I thought I might be able to change that," a young man said, taking a seat across from her at the table, leaning on one of his tattooed hands. 

Although her eyes were beautiful and innocent looking, they quickly went dangerous and foreboding. "What did you say?" she said slowly, her tone deep and almost silent.

The man gave a smile and leaned towards her. "Oh, don't worry, lovely, I'm not here to hurt you."

Without even a flinch, she instantly pulled a silver berretta, shoving the barrel onto his lips. Her body moved closer, and she whispered calmly in his ear, "You should know better than to approach the Silver Angel…and call me that one more time, so help me, I will drive this bullet so deep into you, you will feel it come out the other end…you catch my drift? No, it would not be very pleasant…" 

The man's eyes went wide in fear, his body shaking. "Oh, c'mon, lovely, you can't be the Silver Angel, can you?" he asked between clenched teeth. His heart beat faster and faster, the fear building in him.

"I thought I told you…" she began, then whispered, "Bang!" With only the sudden word and a jerk of her hand, the man had actually believed he had been shot. But in actuality, he was only frightened.

He began to scream wildly, grasping the attention of the patrons of the bar. With an eye going small, she glanced around at all of the gathering eyes, then warned, "Okay, bastard, shut the hell up before I blow your fucking brains out!" 

Cowboy Bebop

Lost Session 1: The Silver Star Sonata

"What's your position, Spike?" Jet asked into his communicator as he peered through the window of the bar. He was balancing on a mass of cardboard boxes and refuse, looking through the slit of a window that lied near the roof of the wall. Most would have called him strange, standing on the garbage cans that were situated beside the main entrance to the bar.

Spike's reply was quick. "The fire escape near the back exit. You still got the front?" he asked, crouched on the ladder like a preying animal. At any moment he could have slipped off of the wet metal; it had rained on Mars for two days straight and the bars were less than sturdy.

"Yeah…I kinda wonder if I fit in, though…" he mumbled, staring back at the passerbys that greeted him with unkind looks. They swiftly made their exit more quickly than before. Jet smiled. "Scratch that, I'm good. Any sign of the Angel?"

His comrade shook his head, as if Jet could see it. "Nope. Maybe we were just a little late."

Jet peered in further. "I sure as hell hope not. If she's not here, I'm gonna be pissed," he replied, scratching the back of his nearly bald head with his mechanical arm. 

Spike laughed a little, then straightened up as a gunshot was heard within. "Holy shit, Jet, did you hear that?!"

"Yeah…go ahead and move in, but be careful, alright?"

"You know me all too well, Jet. Over and out."

With that, they both shut off their communicators, leaving Spike with a feeling of adventure and Jet with one of uneasiness. They made their ways in through their separate entrances, ready with their weapons in case the Angel made any quick moves. 

But on the contrary, when they got inside of the bar, only the reminents of her were there. A man was slumped over in his chair, blood splattered like a child's painting on the wall behind him. Many of the patrons were stricken with horror as they stared at the dead man and his insides, others were just plain numb looking.

Jet halted quickly at the entrance, staring at what was left of the suitor. He shook his head with a sigh. "Do these guys ever learn?" he asked himself with disbelief, clapping a hand on his forehead.

Spike slipped through the back, running in with his firearm prepared. Once he stopped inside, amidst the group of people, he saw. "Not again…Awww, man."

They had missed her, once again. This wasn't just a seldom occurrence, either. It was just plain stupid how many times they had gone after her, and yet again, she had run off without them even catching a glimpse.

"Where'd she go?" he asked, then turned his question to the crowd. "Where'd she go?!"

The people glanced at Spike, already stunned from the shooting, now even more startled by him. Many just remained silent, others stared back as if they wanted to speak. It was just the same old thing, the same old crowd, the same old scene.

One man stepped out, brushing a hand through his orange hair. "She ran, don't ya know? I would think by now, you bounty hunters would smarten up." He was tall, built with muscle but still thin. His face was angular, which looked a bit strange in contrast to his blatantly Irish features: green eyes and freckles. He was the kind of guy that could be a challenge to Spike, but there was no way he could take the man seriously with that Irish accent of his.

"I know she ran," he stated back, raising a brow. "I asked where she ran, all right? So be a buddy and just tell me, without all of the bullshit."

He only grinned, then stepped forwards, his boots clunking heavily on the wood floors. "Anyone here tells either of them where she went, and I'll blow your brains out personally."

The people in the bar pulled back near the walls in fright, as if some type of acid had sprung from his words and they didn't dare touch it. Jet frowned. "Never mind that, Spike. She's getting away, let's just go."

After looking the man in the eye for merely a moment, he sprung forwards towards the door. "Yeah, let's go."

Who was that guy? He definitely wasn't someone from a syndicate, nor from the military or the police. But there was something stately about him, something that made Spike think he was from the ranks of some type of organization. It was in the way he commanded everyone in threats without even the show of firepower. 

Stupid thoughts…Spike thought, trying to get his mind back on the bounty. He wasn't just chasing any old bounty head, this was the real deal. The real McCoy. One hundred billion woolongs. It was enough to let a man live his life without a care in the world. It was the kind of cash that would let Jet and he live in high style. He wasn't about to let her slip through his fingers again, like she had so many times.

Jet slowed his pace as he approached the intersection of alleyways. "Which way, do you think?"

After meeting his pace, Spike scratched his head as he surveyed the surrounding area. "I don't have any idea."

His companion scoffed. "Lot's of help you are, Spike. Thanks, really." 

As if a clue in their search, Spike's communicator gave off one of it's usual beeps, meaning he had a frequency calling him. Placing it before both of them, he switched it on. None other than…

"Faye? What do you want?" he asked a bit rudely, yet good natured at the same time. It wasn't that he hated her, even disliked her. But she just really wasn't his style. She was a high roller, a woman on the edge. It was a bit aggravating how she came in and out like a vagabond, only when she was in need of help any money. If she didn't have such an affinity for cold hard cash, maybe he would have gone a bit softer on her.

Her purple haired, pale faced image smiled across the foggy screen. "Hey, there, Spike and Jet. I just thought I'd call about an important lead."

"Important lead? On what?" Jet asked, intrigued.

"You know, the Silver Angel girl."

The words piqued Spike's interest. "Where is she?" he asked urgently, taking a quick glance around the rainy alleyways in hope that the girl would pop out of some corner, thinking she couldn't be seen.

"Want her location? It comes at a price."

It just figured. Anything of Faye's came at a price, and it was usually a high one. And with a bounty like this, if she wanted 60/40, then she was getting sixty billion woolongs for herself. Jet grunted. "Name it," he commanded, showing his tire of her games in his tone.

She grinned and leaned towards the screen. "Let's see…sixty percent."

Their already sour looks went worse. "No," they both chimed. How did they know that she was going to say that? Moreover, how did she know that they would reply in that way? Because it happened all too often to count.

"Oh, that's too bad. Looks like I'll just swoop down and catch her myself," she said matter-of-factly, ready to disconnect the signal.

"No! Wait! What about forty?" Jet offered.

"Forty?!"

"Fifty…?" he added.

"Alright! It's a deal!  Now, the information…it should come up on the screen in just a sec!" she informed happily, leaning back in her seat.

Spike looked to Jet with his brows lowered and raised in a tilted line. "What did you do that for?" he asked calmly, a bit confused at why he would make a deal that quickly.

Jet shook his head. "We need the information now, or else she's going to get away. The only good idea is to get the direct stuff from Faye, alright?"

After shrugging, Spike took a look at the screen. A new picture had taken place. Instead of Faye's grinning face, there was a digital map with green, blue, purple, and silver dots on it. The green and blue were labeled "Jet" and "Spike" and the purple, far away, was labeled "Faye". The silver dot was quickly making its way across the screen, through the alleyways nearby. 

"Ah ha! This way, c'mon!" shouted Spike, following the path of his communicator towards the silver dot. It was so close, but she was quick. 

"I'm gonna help, alright?" Faye said in more of a statement than a question. Her dot was quick on the move from off of the screen to the middle, near the silver. She was quickly approaching the Silver Angel before Spike and Jet could even close in. The green dot, falling behind slightly, was about to fall off the screen.

"Hurry up, Jet!" Spike called, leaping over a heap of garbage cans in the alley. He glanced up at the sound of a zipcraft passing by, then grasped onto the fire escape that led to a rooftop. 

Jet slid around the wet corner, the pounding of his feet on the ground splashing the puddles onto his clothing. "Oh, shit…sometimes I just hate this job…" He was getting soaked head to toe with the dirty water, making him smell like he had been living on the street for weeks. After roughly wiping his face, he continued on in Spike's path.

Nearly leaping up the ladder, he reached the top and tumbled onto the roof. He then matched up the communicator picture with reality, watching as Faye's zipcraft landed on a nearby rooftop. All Spike had to do was play Superman and jump across a few alleyways. They weren't that wide, if he had enough of a head start, he could jump them without a problem.

 Just as he started to run, Jet reached the top of the ladder. His breath was heavy and panting, trying to catch up as he took a rest. Jet watched as Spike leapt with his long stride across the alleyway gap. And miraculously, he reached the other side with only a roll. After getting to his feet, he continued to dash towards the next roof. 

"What in the hell…? If he thinks I'm doing that, he's insane," stated Jet, then just rested his weight on the bars of the ladder. It was a good resting place, seeing as though he wasn't going anywhere anytime soon.

Faye stepped out of her zipcraft, landing her white boots on the dirty, wet ground of the rooftop. In her frail grasp was a colt, cocked and loaded, ready to be fired. Before her was a woman, standing on the edge of the building. The wind was blowing the leather jacket in her hand in the air, as well as whipping her silver hair around her face. The baggy clothing seemed to push behind her, defining her thin figure. 

"Do not come any nearer," the stoic voice demanded. The lights of the city flickered in her eyes dangerously, as if to caution the bounty hunter the same as her words.

But Faye, who loved money more than any thing in the world, persisted towards the bounty head. "Scared? Well, all you have to do is just step down and come with me, and I won't hurt you. How about it?"

As the Angel moved her arm, the lights now reflected off of the berretta in her torso holster. Her hand now levitated above it, ready to unveil its power. She grinned as her hand took a hold of it and slung the barrel towards the hunter. "I do not make deals with your kind. Now, back away before you are the one in pain."

Spike took the last jump, almost faltering in his technique, but landed it as gracefully as a lanky man could. "Phew…that was close…" he mumbled, then looked up to see the two women pointing their weaponry at each other. "Hey…wait a sec, Faye, what the hell do you think you're doing?! You're going to get yourself killed! She's a sure shot, especially at your range!"

Faye was unmoved by his words, and she only continued on. "You're one of those, are you? Well, let me tell you that you don't scare me, because you don't." She stopped a few feet from the other woman, to the point in which her pistol was level with the Angel's.

The Angel's grin widened, to the point that her glossy teeth shone, and her berretta lowered to Faye's forehead. "You do not understand, do you? I am the Silver Angel. There are reasons for that, as well. I do not have the time to explain these to you, however. I have a previous engagement I must attend. But if you are stubborn enough to not lower your arms, I will be forced to make you do so."

Spike sighed. "That girl gets herself into more than she can handle…looks like I'm going to have to fix this…" he mumbled, then made his way over to the two women, a hand in his pocket and the other toting a weapon.

It was always like this. She always thought she could do things herself, and Spike was the one cleaning up her messes. His nerves were at their ends, but if she got killed, he wasn't sure how he'd feel. Would he be angry? Likely. Sad? Probably not…well…maybe. You couldn't just answer those kinds of questions. Their relationship was more complex than he cared for, one of somewhat caring camaraderie, but then again, each man for himself. She was always getting on his nerves so much that he couldn't pinpoint whether he really liked her or not. But, she was sort of part of their crew, and she was a human being, so he might as well help her out.

"C'mon, Faye, stand back," he said in his usually matter-of-factly tone, a lazy drawl in his low voice. "Don't do something stupid and let yourself get killed by this lady. Now, you, Miss Silver Angel. Come quietly, won't you?"

Faye sighed heavily, not wanting to stand down on one hand, but there was nothing she could do. Spike was taking control of the situation, like usual, and she knew how dangerous it would be to get the Angel mad and get Spike shot. Not that she cared, mind you, but that she didn't want a bloody mess.

Not that she cared? She was only kidding herself. Of course, she cared. His well being was on her mind whenever he got himself into a jam, and as much as she wanted to deny it, it was clear. He was handsome, and clearly intelligent. And strong…she could go on all day about how well he was in hand to hand. She shook her head, ridding her mind of thoughts of him.

With a gentle hand, Spike pushed down the barrel of the woman's weapon, towards the ground where it was safe. He grinned a little at the Angel, trying to make friends before he ended up like the man at the bar. "Now, now."

The woman smiled in return, dropping her pistol to the rooftop. "I apologize…here, I'll go with you…" she said quietly, then stepped down off of the ledge. Just as she did so, a fist came flying towards Spike's jaw. But just as fast as she had punched, Spike's hand was lifted and caught her fist before the impact. 

Without any words spoken, he turned her fist behind her back, grasping her other arm. "Now, now. As I told you. Come quietly. We're not going to hurt you. Just send you in for that big ass bounty on your head."

Faye bent down and snatched up the Angel's berretta, taking into her own possession. "This looks like it will be mine for a while, won't it?" she said with a chuckle, then started to her zipcraft. "I'll call Jet and tell him to meet us."

"You bastards! Let me go! I swear, I'll kill the both of you when I get a chance! You let me go right now! I'm warning you!" the Angel screamed. Her tone was much different, like that of a child, instead of a sturdy, calm voice. Although she squirmed in his grasp, her strength was nothing compared to his own. Still, she was a challenge for Spike, which most women weren't.

The purple haired woman sighed, then stared the Angel in the eye. "Would you be quiet already? You've lost, alright? Your bounty is…is ours! Spike, we got the bounty! THE bounty! Can you believe this?!" Her level of excitement changed rapidly through her speech, and Spike frowned. "Oh, geez…not two screaming women…Help…Jet…"

But then again, he couldn't help but be excited. Twenty five billion woolongs, the places you could go, the people you could find.

(The end, chapter one! You guys excited yet? So, I'll leave you with a few little things to gnaw on. Who's that guy from the bar with the Irish accent? What's his power and his past? What's up with that Angel lady? Why does she kill and why is she so difficult to beat? And for all you Ed lovers out there ((I know you're there, I can see you!)), she's in the next chapter. But as you can see already, this is going to be the bounties and our favorite couple all the way!)

See you later, Space Angel…


	2. Chapter Two: Betraying A Nonexistant Tru...

(Alright! No notes of importance, 'cept, I don't own Bebop…blah blah. Let's ride!)

Lost Session Number One: Silver Star Sonata By: Catherine Bourgeois 

            "Ha! Let's see you get out of that!" Faye exclaimed in victory, looking over the young woman tied to the chair. She was bundled with belts, ropes, anything the crew could find, and may have looked a little funny, but it worked. She was down, finally, leaving Faye with only a scratch or two on her face and a couple bruises elsewhere. 

            The girl only glared back with crystalline blue eyes, as if she were attempting to turn the older woman into ice. "You take me out of these…" she began calmly, then added with a stronger tone, "NOW!"

            Faye scratched her ear with her finger, wincing a little. "Would you be quiet, already? I'm not going to let you out of those, and there's nothing you can do about it. I have…this, don't I?" She taunted the bound woman with her own silver berretta, then snatched it back and placed it in the back of her shorts. "I have all of your other weapons, too…those knives you were storing in your boots, and those smoke bombs in your pockets. And say good-bye to that nice leather jacket. Say, do you think that would look good on me?" 

            Angel frowned, then nearly fell over with her seat. "I swear, if you take that jacket from me, I will find a way to get out of this, or jail, or wherever they take me, and get it back, you understand?!"

            She raised a brow, then twirled in the jacket a moment. It was a little less baggy on her than on the girl, but it fit better. It was a nice jacket, a racer's jacket, and leather too. Just the kind of thing Faye liked. But it only roughed up the girl more, and she scooted forwards a bit. "Stop that!"

            She was truly serious about it. She didn't want anyone touching the jacket, for some odd reason. Faye took it as some type of memorabilia, so decided on not taking it. Instead, she checked the pockets and took out the objects within. A silver zippo, a pack of cigarettes, a money clip with a few thousand woolongs. "Mind if I take these?"

            The girl shook her head vigorously. "No, just…just don't take the jacket. I need it…alright?" Her voice had gone soft. It was strange. Not stoic, nor harsh and unbearable, but gentle, caring and full of everything she was. If it really meant that much to her, than Faye wouldn't even touch it. Taking it would be like someone stealing her videocassette, and she knew how much that would hurt.

            "Fine. Geez, you're real touchy about this pretty little jacket of yours. Not a big deal to me, anyways. Here, you can have it," she said, tossing the jacket at the young woman's feet. Besides, she thought the jacket was too heavy for her own thin frame. 

            Just as she began to walk out of the gear room, she noticed something. It was…quiet, for once. The bounty wasn't yelling, or screaming or whining, but being completely silent. It was a little strange, but Faye shrugged it off and continued towards the door. However, before she could even touch the handle, the door shot open and Spike appeared in the entrance. "What'd you do to her?!" he yelled, eyes covered by his brow. "I thought I told you not to kill her! What the hell do you think you were doing?"

            Faye twitched slightly, then let a long, exasperated sigh escape. "She's not dead, just quiet."

            Jet was quick behind him, slower by nature, and somewhat out of breath when he reached the room. "Quiet?! What did you do, give her mental problems? Oh, Faye…we can't turn in a tainted bounty, you know that."

            Now both were on her case. _Greeaat._  She took out a cigarette from the package, setting it between her lips before trying out her new zippo. It sure worked smoothly, because as soon as she had taken it out, she had lit the cancer stick. "Lighten up," she simply commanded, then maneuvered around them to exit the room.

            Spike yanked her back by the collar of her gold vest. "Wait a second, where do you think you're going?" he demanded. She rolled her eyes slightly, attempting to rid herself of his grasp. 

            "Leaving. I'd rather be doing something else than watching the kid," she replied, then shook free of his hand. "If you need someone to watch her, I'm sure Ed would do a great job."

            "Ed? Are you crazy, Faye? Stop joking around, and get back here. You're supposed to be on watch. Remember, you're getting more than half of the bounty, so consider yourself lucky," Jet reminded, then extended an arm to block her exit with a smile.

            With no where to go, she sighed once more, blowing a little bit of smoke in their directions on accident. "Fine, then. You two just go off and do your own things while I sit in here and rot…I swear, my beauty is being wasted in this dump."

            "Excuse me?!" Jet exploded at the last comment. Faye only smiled her Cheshire cat smile, then turned towards the girl. "Nothing…" she murmured sweetly.

            Then, under somewhat sorrowful eyes, the girl laughed. At first it was short, almost choppy. But then, it grew into a hearty one. "Beauty? That's a good one."

            Faye's feelings matched Jet's. "WHAT WAS THAT?!" she shouted, then charged at the young woman in the chair. "I'm gonna get you for saying that!!" She would have very well pounced on the girl, but instead, Spike grabbed her by the collar again. "Gah…Spike, what are you stopping me for?! You get off so I can kick her-"

            He didn't have to say anything, his expression showed it all. Blank. He hated the way women like Faye were so loud. Couldn't she just pipe down for once and let comments like that go? The girl was obviously trying to get at Faye, however, and Spike would have easily gotten mad at her smart-alic remarks. But she didn't have to hit her.

            "Jet-person! Ein and Ed want some food…" a young voice whined. All of the commotion ceased, and their directions turned to the little redhead tugging on Jet's arm. "Jet-person…Ein and Ed hungry!"

            "Huh? Who's that kid? Wait, is that a 'she' or a 'he'? I can't really tell…" the Angel spoke through the silence. She wanted to have not said anything after Ed's attention was brought upon herself. Ed was quick to jumping on her, looking at all sides of her. 

            "oOOOooo…new person! Silver hair, very pretty! Hai, hai!" Ed rambled in her usual up-beat tone, jumping about in an energetic fashion. It was much too late for jumping around like that, and Spike's head was starting to hurt at all of the events of the night.

            "C'mon, Ed…I'll get you some dinner. Let's go find Ein," Jet stated, then grabbed her by the back of the shirt and carried her out of the gear room. And then there were three, once more. 

            Spike attempted to follow suit and leave, but was caught in the act. Faye grasped his jacket, pulling him back as he had already. "And where do you think you're going? If I have to sit here and play baby-sit, so do you, Spike Spiegel." Sure, she didn't want to be stuck with the work alone while everyone else was likely asleep, but that wasn't the only reason. It wasn't half bad to have him as company sometimes, even if they did like to tease each other.

            He let out a long sigh, unhitching at the back in a slump. "Aw, man…C'mon, Faye, I'm tired." And that, too was true. He had been running everyday for the last week trying to find this pesky girl, and now that they had her in their grasp, he was ready for some serious R and R.

            "Would you two let me out of these already?!" the girl chimed once more. It was like a clock…every five minutes she let out the same cry of despiration. And it wasn't one of those nice sounding chimes, it was a loud, shrill, annoying yell.

            After cringing slightly, he started to leave. "Good luck, then, Faye." He grinned and started to pull the door open. It was really hot in the gear room, loud as well, so he was somewhat relieved at the breeze and the quiet.

            "Do you really trust me that much? I could just leave with the bounty at any moment. One hundred billion for myself is much better than sixty billion," she informed with a sly smirk. She wouldn't do it, and Spike knew it. However, he came to the conclusion that she wasn't giving up, and he might as well just join her in watching the bounty. 

            "Alright. But let me get myself a beer first. I won't be staying up for more than five minutes without one. You want one, too?" he offered, pulling the door open further, then leaning on it. She couldn't help but look over him once or twice in that light. It was the light from the windows in the gear room shining on his face, the rest in shadows. She couldn't see all of him, accept his chiseled features and cunning smile, but was still caught in his figure. "Faye? You want one, too? Uh, Faye?"

            She shook her head, then nodded. "Erm…yeah. Thanks." _What is getting into me? Why was I just staring at him like that? God…I'm losing it, it must be getting really late._ She sat down on the side of one of the warmed metal walls, watching the girl tied to the chair with interest. The Angel was being quiet again, and it confused Faye. At one moment, she was screaming at the top of her lungs, and the next, she was bowing her head with her eyes closed. She seemed even lonelier in the silhouette of the moonlight beyond the window, like somehow she was aching inside, screaming so loud that her ears were going to burst. It was a feeling Faye was familiar with. 

            It had been many a time that she was slumped over her knees like that, crying because no one could hear her scream. It was a constant yell in the back of her head, and she couldn't ignore it. It was a longing to find her past, the constant hope to know what she was so long ago. 

            And suddenly, she asked nearly out of the blue, "Are you alright?" It was a tone that seemed to come from somewhere else. It was warm, almost matronly, and she found herself closer to the chair. The girl only stared back, unable to answer through her forming tears upon her eyes. "Are you crying or something?"

            "I…I'm sorry…" she mumbled. But Faye let her brow raise slightly. What if the Angel was only tricking her as she had tricked the men in the bars? How could Faye trust the girl? Only moments ago, they had guns at each others' throats. Moreover, how could the Angel trust her so willingly? Trust would have to be attained before they could be nice to each other.

            Just as she started to scoot back towards the wall, she felt something beneath her hand. A photograph? She must not have seen it fall out when she was wearing the jacket. As she surveyed the people in it, the Angel looked up and saw her going through her things. "Hey! Don't touch that, either!"

            Could it be…? Her breath caught in her chest as she looked over the picture. It was a group of school girls, complimented by a few boys behind them. Their uniforms were identical, but their faces and hair varied. In the center was a tall, purple haired girl next to a taller silver haired girl. They were dead ringers for the girls in the video cassette, including Faye herself.

            Spike sighed softly as he rummaged through the refrigerator. The wontons Jet had fried earlier were tucked under his arms, as well as various other munch-able items of food. Near the back was a stash of canned beer, and he brought a couple of those as well.

            It was going to be a long night, but no matter. At least he'd be eating well, it had been a while since such a accumulation of food had even touched the Bebop. Humming quietly, he started to make his way back to the gear room with bendy legs. 

            The lights were off, Jet must have turned them off after he made dinner a little while ago. Maybe he was down the hall, trimming his beloved bonsai before going to bed. Whatever it was, the only ones in the Bebop that were known to Spike were himself and Faye, as well as the Angel. Or so he thought.

            "Give her to me," a deep voice echoed through the vast darkness, the quiet disrupted and rippled by the voice. It was clearly Irish, and he only knew one person, to his recollection, that had a voice like that.

            "Who? Faye? I'm sorry, but she's a little busy at the moment," he replied calmly, not even startled by the voice. Knowing what was going to behind him, he turned with a smile and continued to hold his late night snack close. "But I'm sure she'd be happy to see you."

            He was tall, almost the same height as Spike, but a little more muscular. His torso was clad in a white and red T-shirt, sewed like a baseball shirt without the long sleeves. His pants were blue, baggy down to where it covered his tennis shoes, his pockets covered in yellow. Over his face was a mask, painted with a stripe down the center in the color of black.  "You know who I'm talking about."

            "Do I?" he asked in a seemingly unknowing voice. But this only made the man's voice go angrier, and he stepped forwards to take a grasp of his tie. 

            "I want the Angel."

            (Alright…can you guess what that photo is all about? And who's the dude in the mask? These are all pretty simple questions, so I expect easy answers! Next chapter will be up…soon, by demand of Chelsey! Oh, and I expect some serious reviews, people! Hey, I'll do you one even better. You include the name of one of your stories, and I'll read and review for you, too! Yay-ness!)

See ya, Space Cowboy… 


	3. Chapter Three: The Hacker That Loves His...

_(Here's numero tres, mis amigos!)_

Lost Session Number One: Silver Star Sonata By: Catherine Bourgeois 

            It was almost impossible. This girl, no more than seventeen years old, was her comrade from so long ago, a truth from an unremembered past. But…how? Had Angel been frozen, as Faye had been? Well, there was no other explanation for it. However, Faye just kept the thought in her head that she was worth sixty billion woolongs, and the fathoming of her past was kept at bay.

            At any rate, Faye couldn't let Angel see the photo. It was a past that she didn't want to have with this girl, she couldn't just accept her because of their history together, whatever it might be. Instead of giving it back, she folded it and placed it in her pocket. "This is mine, now."

            "Why would you want it?! It's just an old picture. My memories are my memories, and that's all I have left. You wouldn't understand…" Angel protested, attempting to stand in her chair.

            Understand? What wasn't to understand? Faye knew exactly what Angel was going through, from the memory loss to the one token of their pasts. How dare she accuse Faye of not understanding this! This was her past, too, and she knew full well what the hell it felt like to have a bounty on her head.

            "Maybe you don't understand! Maybe you don't understand a word of what you say! For now, I'm keeping this, and if you have any objections, I'd take it up with that chair and those ropes," Faye said, then stood to her full stature. She shook her head lightly, passing her weight to one side as she stood near the window, a glow upon her figure. 

            It was almost time. Soon, they would be on Venus, sending in the bounty. Smooth sailing from there, she knew. No more hunting, no more taking orders from those slackers, and definitely no more wasting her precious beauty. And then it came to her. When she lost all of those things, she was also losing all of her only friends (which she would only call them in secrecy) and…

_            "W-Where am I?" _

_            And he merely smiled, his cigarette looking as though it would fall off of his lips as gently as he had it perching like that. Perhaps it was funny at the time, funny that she had no recollection of why there were smashed electronics everywhere, that debris and rubbish lie in every crook, corner, and crevice. The only memory she did have was of some type of religious group…for some reason she thought of it as a cult. Maybe that's why she was wearing the white infirmary-uniform clothes. But she couldn't help but smile back when he did so. Maybe she was happy that he was smiling, maybe she was happy that he was the first face she could see when she came to. Whatever it was, she didn't need an answer._

_            "Everything's okay, Faye. Let's go."_

            A giggle as soft as a young girl's laugh came from the middle of the room. She must be crazy, Faye came to believe. She would be nearly crying one moment, stark serious the next, and completely out of her mind within seconds. "What is it, now?" Faye asked exasperatedly.

            "Oh, nothing…it's just, I know that you think it's not obvious. I can tell, though," she simply replied, a small grin playing upon her thin lips. It was as if the girl was reading her mind merely by staring at her. Faye could feel her eyes burning a hole in the back of her head, so she instantly turned to face the girl.

            "What isn't?!" she shouted in a sudden outrage. It was strange how she was getting into her mind and staring at her with those cold eyes again. It was beginning to creep Faye out a touch. This so called 'obvious' fact was unknown to her. What was that girl going to ramble about? Hopefully it would be something worth her time.

            Angel laughed once more, shutting her eyes this time as she knocked her head back. "What's his name?…Spike? Isn't that what you would name a dog? Wait…wasn't there a movie or something where someone was named after a dog? Indiana or something? Do you know what I'm talking about?"

            "What about Spike?" asked Faye impatiently, stepping forwards. She wasn't insinuating at she had feelings towards him, was she? This idea only frustrated her further. "C'mon, say it!" she demanded.

            "I saw the way you were looking at him. I know that look. And the way that you smiled just now, heh…I know that look, too. Don't think you can fool me. I may be only seve- I mean…nineteen, but I do know what it is when someone has that look."

            "I knew you were seventeen! I knew you were just a kid!" Faye shouted in revelation. She had never looked old enough to smoke, nor to drink, or even to hold a gun. Her outbursts were justified as well. Not only was this girl young, she was quite immature.

            Even in the darkness, Faye could notice the flush that had swiped over the girl's face. "I-I'm not! I'm nineteen, just as I said! And stop trying to change the subject! You're in love with Spike, aren't you?!"

            Taken back a moment, she let the air catch in her chest. In love? With…Spike? She shook her head, laughing a little. Why had she let that thought even cross her mind? "Spike? No, not with Spike, not with anyone. Don't go tossing accusations around like you know what you're talking about. You're nothing more than a child who has no experiences in these types of things. You may know how to pull a trigger and end someones life, but that doesn't mean you know what life is."

            "I'm not a kid! I can shoot a gun, that's true. And I know what I say when I'm talking about love. Don't get me wrong, I may be only nineteen, but I've had a lot of experiences. I was a bounty hunter, just like you. I've caught my share of bounty heads, I've killed my dose of people."

            "A seventeen year old can't be in love…" scoffed Faye, turning back towards the window. The audacity of this girl! She wouldn't just let it go, would she? But, as Faye knew, giving up wasn't something she was kin with. It kind of reminded her of someone…

            "I've lived in a world where you can. And you have, too, haven't you, Faye Valentine? Let me tell you something. And I'm going to be frank. You've been through as much as I have, and we both know about the same about our pasts. I can still live, even though I don't know what was behind me. I know what I want in the future, and it's really important that I do. Do you know what you want, Faye? Do you know what your biggest goal in life is?"

            _"No matter the past, you still have a future…"_

            "My name…how do you know about me?" she demanded, clenching her fists. All of this, all of the words that were coming from her mouth, they confused her and she didn't know what to say. Did she know her past? Did she know who Faye was? Or perhaps, did someone tell her what happened so long ago? Maybe she found more clues than Faye had. Maybe she was just luckier than Faye.

            "I need to find him, it's the only thing I live for, now. I know love, it's a curse. All I want and need anymore is to see his face and touch him one more time, to hear his voice and know he's there! I don't care if I die, I don't fear death. You could kill me right now, if you cared to. I know I'm young…I'm only seventeen. But I know what I want. That's how you know when you're old enough to be in love, when you know what you want. And, Faye? I made a mistake. I didn't say good-bye like I should have. You don't know when you're going to have to part ways forever, but don't end up regretting your actions as I have. Because sometimes, they never do come back…"

            "Stop rambling on about something you think you know all about. I don't know how you know me, but I don't care! I only care about that nice little sum of woolongs I'm getting off that head of yours, and for that I am worried. Don't for one second think that you know who I am and what I think. It's _you_ who doesn't understand, it's you who-" she began to scold, then turned her head at a sudden crash.

            It had come from the kitchen, perhaps the sounds of dishes or pans against the floor. Spike had been in the kitchen…what had happened? It was a loud crash, as if someone or something had been thrown into the metal objects. Gravity seemed to pull her towards the kitchen, but a voice called her back.

            "Faye, aren't you going to let me out of these, so I can see what's going on, too?" she urged, excitement in her eyes. What had gotten into her to make her think that she was part of the crew, all of a sudden? She was a bounty, and she was supposed to stay tied up. She wasn't supposed to investigate strange sounds on a ship of her hunters, no less with a hunter themselves.

            She merely laughed and continued on. "Are you crazy? Of course not. You just sit tight, and don't try anything." And with that, she walked through the door and down the hall. Had someone lost their temper and thrown something across the room? Not likely, that wouldn't have made such a racket. What the hell was Spike doing now?

            "Spike, what the f-" she began to say, blindly, then took a step into the kitchen area. To her surprise, pots, pans, and all kinds of utensils were spread about the floors and counter tops. Spike's jacket had been discarded near her feet, and as her eyes traveled up to the source of the noise, she almost gasped. Spike and another man were nearly grappling with each other, throwing the other man into the counter tops and floor. Although the man he was fighting had a strong scowl on his face, Spike only smiled as if he were enjoying the action of the fighting.

            "Stand back, Faye…not a good time to get…INVOLVED!" he managed to say, then tossed the redheaded man towards the counter top nearby. The redheaded man frowned and clutched his face as the mask he wore cracked in half. "And you, Irishman from the bar, you need to get up and fight better." After clapping his hands together, he grinned a bit further.

            "How'd you know it was me? I had a mask on the whole time!" the loud Irish accent boomed, and the man stood to full stature. His fists, red with blood the color of his hair, thrust forward towards Spike's face. 

However, Spike had quickness to the Irishman's strength, and easily dodged the assault. Next came a blow to the stomach, to the arm, to the leg…they were attacks Spike could handle. But, there seemed to be something different, like his speed was increasing with each attack. Near the beginning he was slower than pouring cement, now he was nearing the speed of an agile person like Angel. Before he knew it, his wrist had been taken up by the Irishman's grip. Within a twist of his hand, Spike's wrist had nearly been pulled off the way a wrist shouldn't be pulled.

 "Spike!" Faye called, and then pulled the silver pistol from the back of her shorts. Immediately, the sites were aligned, and a sure shot by a few feet away was easy. "Okay, Pumpkin-Boy, back off…"

Cradling his wrist in his hand, Spike brought an elbow up to match the taller man's face. Preoccupied at gunpoint, the Irishman didn't have time to avoid the elbow in the nose he got.

Even as he crumbled to the ground, hands on his face, Faye still let the weaponry lock onto its target. Spike was quick to whining about his likely sprained wrist, and the Irishman was just as fast.

"I know you have her…just let me see her. I want…I need to see her. Kill me if you'd like, I just need to speak to her and see her face first…please," the Irishman pleaded from his spot on the floor, brushing the blood from his closed left eyelid. 

And Faye finally understood. This wasn't any ordinary bounty hunter out to steal the precious one billion. No, she wanted Angel for reasons other than the money. And it wasn't hard for Faye to put two and two together. The two of them had the same beliefs, the same words to their mouths. Not only that, but they were young, not children but definitely not adults. 

However, this boy wasn't harsh or uncaring. His green eyes showed it. He was soft, gentle; he wouldn't hurt anyone if he didn't have to. Perhaps he just grew up thinking that was the only way he would get things done. Faye had thought the same thing when she had first been awakened; she thought that taking the most drastic measures was the way to go. But that was the way that a child thought, and that was what you were when you woke, from a toddler to an old man; it was always the same blank mind.

"Faye! What are you doing putting your gun down?" Spike asked, gripping his wrist for dear life. It was beginning to look white, bloodless. Maybe when the Irishman yanked Spike's hand as such, it had cut off the circulation indefinitely. 

Not bothering to answer, Faye pulled the Irishman up by the back of his T-shirt, saying coldly in his ear, "Five minutes, then you'll get your ass out of here. Understand?"

The boy nodded quickly with a smile. "Yes, thank you! I appreciate it very much!" 

Spike caught up with both of them, stopping near the entrance of the gear room. "What do you think you're doing, Faye? Are you- Hey…Did you let her out to go to the bathroom or something?"

Faye shook her head in aggravation. "No, Spike. Now, let's just let this guy get it on with his girl so he can leave." 

In the same tone, Spike snapped back, "Well, buddy, looks like you have a problem on your hands. You won't be able to see your girlfriend BECAUSE SHE'S NOT THERE! Faye, what the hell did you do?!"

"WHAT?!" Faye screamed, bursting into the room, looking about frantically. She saw no sign of the girl, nor any of her possessions. Only the discarded ropes and belts remained, lying in the dim moonlight of the gear room.

The Irishman began to laugh, closing his eyes with his arms crossed. "So, she's really gonna try and pull the 'big steal', ah?"

"'Big steal'? What is this 'big steal'?" asked Faye frantically, turning her attention to the freckle-faced kid. He stood almost a full half-foot above her, yet in his steel-toed shoes he was a bit frightened. There's nothing like a fiery woman that wants to know what's going on, especially if money is involved.

"There's only one way off of this here ship, and that's by craft. That zipcraft and that racer I saw in the dock ain't safe, if that's a clue fer ya." His grin widened as a satisfied glint in his eye flashed. The look on his face was smug, a proud look that Faye and Spike had a mutual urge to smack off.

But their anger was kindled into rage at mention of danger to their crafts. The two hunters looked to each other in stark horror, then shouted in unison, "NO!"

Pulling their hostage along, they ran towards the dock. Anything in their way was pushed aside or leapt over, dashed around or kicked away. All they could think of were their precious crafts…and what that malicious girl could do to them! Spike's worst fear was yet to come true, but if anyone could fulfill it, it would be that devil of an angel.

Just as they looked upon the dock, they finally realized the extent of the 'big steal', as well as a few other answered questions. Faye's zipcraft looked less than ride able; the cords from the bottom had been yanked out and strewn about the entire dock in a trail. And Spike's 'Swordfish II'…well, there was no telling what had happened to that, because there wasn't a 'Swordfish II' in sight. Only a black racer resembling Spike's was parked in the dock, but not the way a good, careful pilot would have. The walkway was completely blocked by the craft, crushing the tiles and wall beneath it's wings and pit. But Spike knew right away that it wasn't his, lettering on the side wrote, "Black Angel" in gothic cursive writing. Definitely not Spike's style…but likely the style of a earing studded, red headed, sunglasses wearing teenager that had wandered onto the BeBop. 

"NOOOOO!" Spike screamed, nearly falling to his knees in dramatics. "Take my money, take Faye, just don't take my racer…" 

Faye was a little too preoccupied to be disgruntled at his comment. Her zipcraft could no longer be classified as a zipcraft. It had been gutted and dragged like a fish; the thought nearly took Faye to tears.

"Looks like you got some bad news, there, Fuzzy Head. I guess she chose to steal yours. Good choice, considering it's a model I happen to fancy myself. But, ah, what you to do? You definitely can't drive mine, not with that wrist of yours. And I doubt your woman would be any kinda candidate fer maneuverin' a racer like this. She'd probably crash it before she even got out the dock."

Their eyes were then redirected to the Irishman, not in a happy way, either. "What did you just say?" they both echoed in unison.

He laughed nervously, looking from side to side with a pull on his shirt collar. "Erm…nothin'. Nothin' at all. Say, why don't I do you two a favor 'n' go 'n' get her fer ya?" 

Spike and Faye were somewhat kin with the idea, the guy seemed like he'd be pretty good with a craft like that. However, this guy could also just want to go off with his girlfriend and run away somewhere, the bounty clear out of sight. No, they couldn't chance that, not when one hundred billion was riding on the success of a boy like him.

"How could we trust you? You're a friend of the girl, aren't you? So, wouldn't you just go off with her?" Faye asked.

He only smiled. "You don't have to trust me, sweetness. Just have faith." With a wink, he pointed to the cross that hung around his neck by a thin leather rope. 

Spike and Faye twitched slightly at his words, but Spike was the first to speak. "Listen, ass-wipe, but I really would 'fancy' my racer back in this dock. I'd also really like my bounty back in her ropes."

"Why don't we make a deal, then?"

"A deal?"

"Yeah, you give us two safe passage, a decent place to stay, good food, minus the ropes and threats, and I'll be sure to bring her and your ship back in tact."

Again, the idea was tempting. He wasn't too worried about Angel being turned in. In fact, he seemed perfectly content with it. There was something fishy going on here, something very strange that wasn't explainable.

"Fine, it's a deal…" Faye murmured, then bowed her head. If Spike could get his craft back, it would only be by this guy. She was probably half way to Earth by now, he was his only chance.

"Faye!" Spike exclaimed with a scowl.

 "Do we really have any other choice? Let's just work on God's good humor."

With that, the Irishman grinned a toothy smile and popped into the pod of his racer, starting up the ignition with a pop from the boosters in the back. His image suddenly came up on the main communicator in the dock, somewhat static-ed and distorted. "See you soon…and my ship ID is 2805. Just in case somethin' happens." Without another word, the image cut out and the 'Black Angel' racer sped it's way out the front gate of the dock.

Spike fell back onto the floor, closing his eyes. Faye leaned against the wall, looking towards her comrade. After a few moments of silence, she was first to speak. "Tonight sure has been a night, huh?" 

He only held his wrist tighter, replying almost without words. "It's not over yet."

Taking out a cigarette from the pack she stole from Angel, she offered him one. He accepted with eyes still closed, letting the cigarette dangle from his slightly moist lips. And, strangely, Faye felt somewhat overtaken with the feeling of touching them, maybe… She shook her head to let the thoughts leave, and followed their cigarettes with the silver zippo she had lifted. 

"Win a race for once?" Spike asked, letting the ashes flutter from the end of the cigarette and with the drift of his smoke filled breath. 

"No…I took it from Angel. Packing some good stuff for a kid. It's been a while since I've been able to smoke a cigarette with some flavor to it. These cocoanut flavored ones are supposed to be expensive, too."

"That Irish kid took me by surprise, too…I think he might have sprained my wrist or something."

"Want me to look at it for you?" she asked.

He shook his head with a grin. "You're awful nice, now. What, did she give you some worldy advice?"

Faye stopped to think a moment. Why was she being so kind? Maybe it felt pleasant to be nice every once and a while. Was that a crime? Well, it wouldn't be if that were the case. No, she hated to believe that Angel had gotten through to her, but…

"I don't have the energy to be foul to you," she replied wittily, then turned away. Her eyes had fallen upon some of the parts of her craft, and she sighed. "I can't believe that wench cut the cables…"

"Yeah, well, she cut mine, so…deal with it."

"Pumpkin-boy will get it back, safe and sound."

"If he comes back."

"He will."

"He's a kid, who knows what he'll do."

"Awful spite-ful, huh, Spike?"

"You're the one acting weird…" he began, pulling himself up and opening his eyes. "First, you put your gun down, then you let him have five minutes to see our bounty. Then you let him run off after her. Why couldn't you just stay in the room with her?! Huh? Was it really that hard to watch a girl who knows how many years younger than you? I could have taken care of that guy myself, anyways. I didn't need your help. You might have just lost us a good one hundred billion woolongs. Well, sixty billion in your case."

Faye took in a deep puff of her smoke, then exhaled slowly. "You're pitiful, putting all of this on me. Of you hadn't been so careless in the kitchen, I wouldn't have been worried and forced to come and help. You'd be a lot worse off if I hadn't of come in, anyways."

"Worried? Are you kidding me? You've never been worried about anyone in your life."

She was completely lost for words. What was she supposed to say? What he said had to be one of the more hurtful things she had been told in all her time since she had been unfrozen. What was this feeling that made her eyes wet, her heart sink so low, her voice box freeze?

As she stayed quiet, he only laughed. "You're pathetic, you know that? You can't even watch some girl and make sure she doesn't leave, with a gun in hand, no less. If you can't do that, you don't belong on this ship."

Didn't belong on the Bebop? It was the only place she really felt she did belong. No longer would she take this verbal abuse; she had to speak up. "What do you know, Spike Spiegel?! At least I can take on a kid and apprehend them. You're weak, you don't belong on this ship! And you compare me with you? At least I'm not running from my past!"

Spike pushed a skeleton-thin hand through his mass of green hair, letting a sigh pass his cigarette in the form of smoke. "You don't know what you're talking about…"

And then, before Faye could even say another word, another sound came from within. "WHAT HAPPENED TO MY KITCHEN! SPIKE! FAYE!"

Jet…Spike had nearly forgotten about him. He had made quite the mess in the kitchen, Jet was likely furious. But, no big deal for Spike. Jet could throw a fit all he wanted, but he would still end up cleaning it up himself. He's be mad about the crafts, too. As long as the 'Swordfish II' got back safe, Faye was the only one in trouble with the 'Redtail'. 

"Might as well go tell him what happened," Spike proposed, getting to his feet. Letting the cigarette fall to the tile, he smashed the burning cancer stick with his boot and swept it off the platform. 

Upon releasing from the gate, the Irishman slid into a quick burst, flying faster than Spike ever could towards his target. The red-headed hacker let his fingers sweep across the controls, and before he knew it, he had hacked into the comm. system he knew wouldn't reply from any frequency. 

Angel, known as Malori between she and her partner, was a bit taken back by the image projected upon her communicator. "N-Nash!" she shouted, slowing the 'Swordfish II' in order to pay attention to the Irishman.

He smiled a little, in the way he always had, as if it were no more than a day they had been apart. "Hi."

"Was that you? I told you not to come, Nash! You promised you wouldn't."

"I couldn't help myself."

"You never did listen to me."

"Sometimes. Things like this cause fer desperate measures." They both stayed silent, but he finally spoke again after a few moments. "I want you to come back. They said it'll be a safe haven fer us. I'll make certain you're not treated badly."

"To that ship? C'mon, Nash, you've got to be kidding me. I thought that if it were you…we'd run together this time. I don't like being alone, you know…"

"We won't be alone on the ship. But…you know it's inevitable with the bounty on your head and the one on mine, we're sure to be fine targets. We're going to be caught eventually, but these hunters will be humane."

Nash drove his craft quickly into a turn, facing the girl's craft. His actual face stared back, and he smiled once again. And she couldn't help it. She had to be with him, she needed to be safe with him. And if it were only for a couple days, it was fine. "Okay…we'll go back together."

_(Alright, that's it…too tired to write anymore. Next update will be soon, same rules of R/R apply, gimme a buzz. See y'all!)_


	4. Chapter Four: Don Mitchell: the Man Even...

Don Mitchell was finally sitting down in his office lounge chair next to the fire, watching the flames dance inside the fireplace. Relaxation was finally going to his bones, it was a rare occurrence in the President of the Bounty Hunters Federation. He was always barking commands, telling his filthy peasants where to go when they strayed their paths, and it was hard work on the middle-aged man. It was no wonder he had wrinkles in his leather-like face and a slightly receding hairline.

His eyes came to a close as he took his thin metal-framed shaded glasses, his limbs collapsing in the depths of the chair. But before his mind could drift to sub-consciousness, he was rudely taken over by the sudden sensation of sound. Who, at this ungodly hour, was knocking at his door? Didn't those fools know not to disturb him while he was in his office?

Making his words was a struggle, but he spat them out like water to a fire. "Your ID…" was his exasperated phrase, his eyes still closed. The only person he'd allow in right now was his right hand man, Pyro. Don had been expecting a report earlier that evening, but he had been late, which was frowned upon at the BHF.

"2805, sir," the squeak came behind the door.

"Come in, Pyro," Don commanded, then slipped his shaded glasses upon his face once again. Coming into focus, his eyes noticed that Pyro had come in without words or sound, and only bowed low on the floor near his feet.

"My apologies, sir! Please excuse my tardiness!" he pleaded, not daring to look up at him. Don readjusted the rosary that hung under the collar of his black dress shirt, letting the cross that adorned the end hang correctly on top of his blue tie. He was sure tiring of these amateur bounty hunters, they weren't dependable and they liked to whine. On the other hand, those traitors, who had been the best hunters Don had seen, were the epitome of the BHF hunter. Plus or minus their suspicions.

Standing to full stature, Don looked down upon his assistant with a small grin on his invisible lips. "Don't let it happen again, or I'll send you to Ganymede," was all he said, then lifted a large, shiny shoe covered foot and crushed the man's fingers beneath the soles. He lurched in pain, grunting and screaming in accompaniment. Once Don decided the man had been through enough punishment, he stood off of the man's crushed fingers and walked towards the fireplace. "Now…your report."

The man stood, looking at Don with uneasy, tear filled eyes. "Yessir…Black Star and Silver Angel have been taken captive by the ship, Bebop. They will arrive on Venus within a few hours…"

Don watched the flames dance in the stone encasing, then figures forming to his imagination's mold. A young man and woman, screaming to no end. That is what he wanted of his two best ex-bounty hunters. Suffering would do them well, then, after their memories had been stolen by a good bout of amnesia, they could start working again. Yes, Don needed to show the rest of the BHF that you don't get away with screwing Don Mitchell. No revolts, no quitting…only good old-fashioned hard work. Work makes us free…right? Right. "Reroute them. Tell them to go to Ganymede."

"Ganymede, sir? Do you mean you're going to do it again? But doesn't that cause…"

"Silence. Do you want to have to go through all this trouble again? Hmph…your opinion is unimportant. Nonetheless, I don't want revolts to rage in my company. I have had a good thing going until those two showed up."

"But isn't it the prophecy, sir? Your own prophecy?"

"It's my prophecy when I'm in the cathedral. When I'm here, it's just two punks that are getting in the way of my delicate operation. Suspicions of their pasts completely screws everything up, don't you understand?!" Don asked. Suddenly, he pulled his pistol from his jacket, pushing the barrel into the man's forehead. "I'm tired of you. You're far too old…"

"I'm only twenty eight, sir!" pleaded Pyro, sweat beading down his brow. Don had done this before…but…somehow 2805 believed that this was the 'Final Judgment'. His so-called 'God' was to make his decision. 

"Kiss the cross…your judgment has been decided," Don stated, his voice cool and stable. Not even his stone eyes quavered, his only stared without care. Lifting his rosary with his left hand, he showed the assistant the cross. "Now…" he urged.

Pyro reluctantly pressed his lips against the rosary's most precious adornment, the one item all BHF hunters kissed before the final act. Closing his eyes tightly, he braved the next action of his leader.

~~~…~~~

Nash couldn't help but wonder what had changed in Malori. It had been almost a year, but…was she still the same? Or had she turned into someone else? Was she still the hip-less girl from the BHF that had been so eager to learn from her veteran partner? Or was she now some type of woman that killed men for just the hell of it? 

He waited for her to dock before he got out of his pod, watching as she left the 'Sword Fish II'. Sure, she had changed, but what had he really expected? And changed…well, for the better. Taller, thinner, and definitely a whole lot more attractive. And that is why Don Mitchell chose her as the 'Silver Angel'. At the time, she was no more than a girl with girlish attractiveness. Now, well, now she was a woman, Nash noted. He brushed a few buttons and activated the opening code upon the ship. 

Long ago, before Nash had even recalled, he had been good with computers. Now, as a hacker, he could access most anything worked by a machine with his hand-held computer or his dash on his craft. That was mainly why it was so easy to break into the Bebop, all he had to do was mash a few buttons and the dock opened on his command. 

Stepping out, he landed heavily on his rubber-soled shoes, staring straight into the icy blue eyes of the woman he had known as a partner quite some time ago. A sudden chill flushed down his spine, as if she had put him under some type of spell. It was like she had changed so much, the very gaze of her eyes made him freeze in surprise.

Searching for the right words he had always found a way to say, he found trouble and ran into a mental block. He was a sly guy with the girls when he rarely spoke, and he had always made Malori do what he pleased with his remarks. But somehow, in the way she stared at him, he couldn't find a single thing to say…except, "Malori…" Not slick, but definitely warm in tone.

Even though Nash had noticed the change, Malori had not. She only smiled back, warmed through and through by the simple repeat of her own name. But only in the simplicity of her naïve demeanor and the reaction of his word, she replied, "Nash…"

"How's it…hangin'?" asked Nash quite uncomfortably, stuffing his hands in his over-sized pockets. His eyes strayed from her figure, looking about the dock. He suddenly found the metal band covering the toes of his shoes more than interesting. What the hell was he supposed to do now? He had come all this way just to say, 'how's it hanging?'!

"Umm…good, I guess…" she replied, silently questioning his words. He had brought himself all the way here just to say that? Gone through all that trouble to get himself beaten up, just to say, 'how's it hanging?'!

Nash cleared his throat, letting his shoe come off of the ground a bit and shuffle around. "Er…that's pretty good, then, huh?" he commented, letting his womanizing sly atmosphere turn to a boyish confusion. What the hell was happening to smooth old Nash O' Hara? Damnnit, he couldn't just let her get him all tied up like this…he had to say something, at least. Digging in his pockets, he grasped his hands around his shades and lifted them to his face. "So I hear that-" he began in his masculine-woman-izer-voice.

But then, his voice halted mid sentence when her low giggle began to show. She covered her mouth, letting her back rise and fall with every laugh. And it just got louder. Nash perked a brow, then perked the other. "Hey….what the-…what's so funny?"

She shook her head, trying to stop laughing, but it just went to her gut and the volume rose. "No…it's just…you sound so silly trying to act like that…with your accent…and…it's just not like you, Nash…"

"Hey!"

"I don't mean it to be cruel, but…" she said, then looked up at him. Her eyes were soft, her smile was fresh and new. It was her most beautiful smile, and Nash was once again overtaken by her stone gaze. "…What are you staring at me like that for…?" she asked after a moment, her smile slowly fading.

Furrowing his eyebrows, he poked her in the collar. "Don't laugh at me, it's not nice, y'know… I can't help what I sound like."

In return, she grasped around the collar of his red and white shirt with a strong hand. "Well then don't sound like some farm boy."

She had changed…but not by much. Following her given suit, he took his hand around the collar of her leather jacket. "Don't sound like an city-slicker."

"City-slicker? What the hell…? You always come up with the weirdest words, Nash…" she replied, then felt herself being lifted by his grip. The jacket she wore was strong, though, and she was easily lifted without the worry of ripping the arms out or anything. Most would be mad, but she only laughed. 

"What's wrong with what I say?" he repeated, staring her in the eye. He wanted an answer, but at the same time, her smile made him smile. And he could only help but notice that he had lifted her towards him, their faces not too far from each other. He wondered, then, if the taste of her lips had changed, if the way it felt had changed, too…he wanted to know that more than that nonsense of earlier, his urges pulled him towards her.

But he knew, after what had happened…he couldn't just let her forget everything and kiss him. It wouldn't be right after what he had done to hurt her like that. But it was tempting to wonder what her reaction would be. And that was Nash in a nutshell. He was curious about everything.

"Umm…Nash? Could you put me down, please?"

"Oh…sorry."

~~~____~~~

"What do you mean, he just 'snuck on'? Who do you think was opening the gate? I was up taking care of the mess Ed and Ein made," Jet grumbled, tossing a few pans in the air. He caught them with the same speed, then placed them on the counter. "Damnnit…all of this is going to have to be washed…"

Spike, who had been sitting on one of the counters all the while that Jet and Faye had been cleaning, was immersed in the idea of whether to open a dented can of beer yet. On one hand, it could fizz everywhere, then both of them would be really mad. On the second hand, it could be fine and he would be able to drink it. After ten minutes, he still sat with the same dazed look on his face, unable to make the decision.

"He just snuck in, like I said. His ship was in the dock, and someone had to open it. Spike, Angel, and I were all busy, so you're the only one that could've." She gathered a few different pots and set them neatly upon the countertop, looking towards Spike. He was such a freeloader…making all this mess and taking no efforts to clean it up. It was his fault he fought the guy anyways, and did such a messy job doing so. His discarded jacket was nearby, so she took it up and threw it onto the contemplating man.

Spike squirmed beneath the maze in his jacket, making unintelligible sounds for a long while until he found his way out. "Goddamnit, Faye! What the heck did you do that for?!" he shouted, leaping off of the counter. Ready with his can in one hand, he shook it ominously.

"No, no, no…Spike Spiegel, if you spray that on me, I'm going to-" warned Faye. But Spike, one not to take warnings seriously, popped the top with the lid facing her direction. And before she knew it…pop…fizz…scream…laugh. "SPIKE SPIEGEL!" she screamed at the top of her lungs, taking a dead charge towards the man that was busy with spraying cheap beer on her. Now, not only did she look like a three cent whore, she smelled like one, too. Did Spike like to see her suffer, or what? She leapt onto his back, pulling at any appendage available. "C'mere, I'm gonna get you!!"

Spike's tone matched Faye's in screaming, his feet carrying him into a circle of panic. But Faye didn't get dizzy, her rage overcame those other feelings of nausea. "You're gonna die!!" she screamed, pulling at his ears and face with anger. 

Jet sighed, but was a bit amused. Really, he did like to see those two fight it out, it was funny to him. Although this was true, he couldn't let Faye make Spike into a dog's chew toy. With his mechanical arm, he yanked Faye off of on top of Spike, pulling her to the ground. "Now, now, Faye…"

Surprising to both of the men, she didn't lurch out at either of them this time. She only sat on the floor, her head bowed. Thinking she might be distraught, Jet looked down further to see what was wrong. Spike just stood there, a hand on his face and an arm across his chest. 

But just as Jet leaned down to see her face, she looked up to both of them. She looked like a scene from a scary movie, her hair wet and disheveled, her makeup streaming down her face. Both of the men leapt back in surprise with looks of fright and confusion, ready to start yelling for the dog pound.

"I swear on all that is good and holy, Spike Spiegel…I'm going to get you. Whether it's in the gear room, or in the control room, or in the bathroom…or in your own bedroom! You're in for it, and I'm gonna get you good!!" she squealed, then stood and dashed off.

Spike and Jet looked to each other, exchanging quizzical looks. After a little while, Spike spoke up, saying, "She's going to get me? What does that mean?"

"I think it's a threat."

"Oh…Do you think she's serious?"

"She looked angry…is that answer enough?" 

"That's true…"

Spike took a step back as he heard more footsteps, hoping that it wasn't Faye with her razor sharp claws, ready to attack. Instead, there were the two bounties standing in the door frame. Nash nodded to both of them, a pleasantly victorious smile on his lips. Malori stood next to him, a little frightened as to what Spike might try to do. She had, after all, stolen his greatest and most dear possession. That would make Malori mad, too. She just hoped that he didn't have the bad tolerance that she had.

"You! You came back!" Spike said with disbelief. "I thought it was gone forever!"

Nash shook his head. "Naw, I got it back for you. And your bounty, too. All safe and sound, boy-o. And don't worry about the crafts in the dock, I'll fix those tomorrow." He put a hand on Malori's shoulder, patting it slightly with a grin. He had won, even with Spike and Faye's unfaithfulness in him.

If there was one thing Nash O'Hara knew how to do, it was hack with his computer. If there were two, then it was fixing the computers and crafts he had broken. Back at the learning facility in the BHF, he had learned to be a mechanic of all trades. It was the only good that came out of that god-forsaken place.

"And you!" Spike said, redirecting his attention. "You deserve to go back to the gear room and get tied up, you little-," he began, but then shook his head. He remembered the deal that Faye and the Irishman had made. Spike couldn't lay a finger on either of them, he had to treat them with respect, which meant free reign on the Bebop.

"Nu uh uh," Nash warned, smiling a little as he put a hand across Spike's path to Malori. "You know you can't do a thing so just forget it." Nash grinned, then turned his attention to the other man. "You must be Jet. It's good to finally see you."

Jet raised a brow. How did he know about him? Was he psychic or something? No, Jet decided. Not even he could be psychic. With a scratch of his head, he pondered aloud, "How does he know my name?" 

"Oh, its not important. But I guess it's important that you know our names. I'm Malori, this is Nash. And you'll be able to turn us in for a lump sum of one hundred fifty billion woolongs. Aren't you excited about that?"

Then Spike remembered why he was going through all this trouble. One hundred-…wait. One hundred fifty billion? Did the bounty raise without him knowing? Or did Nash have a bounty on his head, too? "Hey, wait, there's something weird going on here."

Nash shrugged. "Fifty billion for me…I don't kill as recklessly as she does, you know."

Jet grinned wide, slapping a hand on his shiny head. "My gracious god…and you two came back? I can't believe what I'm hearing! This is incredible, isn't it, Spike boy?"

Spike only shook his head, letting out a long sigh. Passing through the entry that the bounties moved the way from, he stuffed his hands in his pockets. What a long night…it seemed like all of this had happened in a matter of days, not just a few hours. But he was glad, now they could get some good hard cash and live good lives for a while. Of course, everyone would have to get jobs eventually, but…it didn't matter. Even if it were just for a little while, Spike would like to take a break from bounty hunting. He wanted to go out and see what he could find…see if he could find her.

Julia had been reoccurring in his mind lately. Who knew why, but there seemed to be some shadow behind him that was telling him she was near. Maybe it was going to Mars that made him feel like that. Maybe it was just a strange urge to see her again. Then again, she had been his missing piece, the one who made him complete, and he felt completely empty without her.

Tossing his shoes off of his feet upon entry, Spike took a serious load off. Sleeping in his bed was looking really nice right about now. He derobed, letting his suit hang on the foot of his bed. This was such a lonely existence. It was such a small life, chasing bounties that they probably wouldn't catch anyways. His time awake was spent as if it were in a dream. His times asleep were wishes of what would happen when he was awake. It was all so surreal.

He plopped onto his bed in only his boxers, his body slumping into the mattress. The stressed muscles and ligaments lengthened, he could feel his body relax and his mind fall into his wonderful slumber.

____~~~____

Jet looked to his communicator, staring at the screen. Who was this? He didn't look like the same guy that Jet had talked to earlier about the bounties, but they had similarities. He was a clean-cut looking one, wearing a suit of red and black. "Excuse me for interrupting anything, sir. I have a message from Don Mitchell, the head of the Bounty Hunters Federation. A colleague and yourself spoke last evening about the capture of 'Silver Angel'. You had the 'Black Star' in your possession as well, correct?"

"Yes, that's right."

"We'd like to ask you, on behalf of Don Mitchell, to redirect your path to Ganymede, sir. There will be an extra million added to the sum of woolongs you will receive."

"Ganymede? Why there?"

"Don Mitchell's office is on Venus, but we would much prefer you redirect your path to Ganymede. There will be an extra million added-,"

"Yeah, I understand…But one question. Why is it that the bounty is going to the BHF and not the police?" 

"They're not being searched for by the government. The BHF put the bounty out themselves."

"Is that right? Well, then…I suppose we'll be seeing you on Ganymede."

"That's right. The transaction will take place at the location I will send to you by computer."

"Okay, then. Good evening," Jet said, then pressed the disconnect button. The screen went black again, and he looked up to the two hunted teen-agers. He wondered why these two nearly harmless kids were being hunted for such a sum. It seemed…silly, almost inhumane. Although, they both had done a lot of damage to Faye's ship and Spike's self esteem. And the scene he had left of the man at the bar was repulsive.

"Ganymede?" Nash said after a while. He tried to keep a smile, but it failed. For some reason he was more distraught about being caught than usual. It was almost…sadness, a pure and utter sadness deep within him. And Jet could see it even more in the girl by his side.

"Ganymede…" Malori echoed, staring at her hands, intertwined.

"Ganymede? What's so wrong with that place?" Jet asked, somewhat alarmed. After all, that was the place where he thought of as special, and he didn't take kindly to those who didn't like it.

Nash shook his head for an answer from both of them. "It's nothing you need to be concerned about. We'll be on our way once you tell us where we'll be staying for the night…" 

Jet frowned. Something wasn't right. From what he had seen from the two of them, Nash was an Irishman of strength but a joking demeanor, and Malori wasn't one of his kind of personality, yet she was somewhat youthful and cheerful at the same time. They weren't smiling…it made him feel uneasy, yet he directed them towards the living room nonetheless. "You both don't mind sleeping in the same room, do you? Well, it's all we have, so if you don't like it, I'd take your complaints to each other." 

In all honesty, neither of them minded the fact they would be in the same room together. It wasn't uncomfortable, they had spent many nights on the same bed in their hunting days, for the budget was tight and a one-bed room at the hotels they frequented was all that was affordable. But maybe things had changed…maybe since that one night, when everything happened, maybe that would make things feel odd.

"Well, looks like you two will do just fine. There are blankets under the couch, there, and if there's any trouble, you can come find me. And…Nash, is it? Well, Nash, I'll be waking you bright and early to fix the Red Tail," Jet said, reveling in the fact that this was so easy, and that he no longer had the monotonous task of fixing the ship himself. He took to the stairs, swinging around the railing, until he went out the door. "Night, you two."

Nash nodded, Malori did, as well, after a moment. It took a second for them to actually look at each other, and like usual, Nash was the first to smile. He looked so…silly when he smiled, although he tried harder than he could to be serious. His white teeth were shining amongst his pale pink lips, his freckles looked cast out in the company of his emerald orbs of color. 

For a long time, they didn't say anything, and they feared it would be a replay of earlier. But Malori, assured to ask him what had been plaguing her mind, spoke first. "Nash, what happened?"

He looked to her, this time with less laughter and more genuine worry. "What do you mean?" he asked, although he knew full well what it was. It was the question he had been neglecting answering, it was the question he had no urge to speak of.

"You just left me, Nash! You left me alone in what could be called Hell itself!" she shouted at him. This wasn't an angry or stoic voice, which frequented her tone. No, this was a thoughtful, hurt voice. "In the belly of the beast…"

"I had to, Malori! I had to or he'd kill me!"

"But didn't it matter if I died?"

He paused a moment, but quickly found words in reply. "He wouldn't kill you…not if he could help it, anyways. Malori, you are the prophecy, the Messenger of God that gathers the sinners and sends them to Hell…are you not? This is what you told me when you gave me this cross, this is what you used to believe. If you are his angel, he won't touch you. But what am I, Malori? I'm just someone to get in the way." A nervous tick he always had was running his hands through his orange hair, and nothing was stopping him now. The perspiration that had gathered in the lines of his clenched fists was running through his hair, pasting it down uncharacteristically to his head.

She stared at the cross she had given him. It was true…when they were both in the BHF, they had all been part of the prophecy. Yet…now, now things had changed. And they were changed from now on until eternity ended. She was an outlaw, yet Don Mitchell wanted them. The brainwashing would happen once more…he'd steal their memories from them. Ganymede was the place that BHF hunters went to be changed. The place that their brains were completely rid of memories, and thus in turn, their emotions. 'When one has no connections to the past, one can kill without feeling'. They were Don Mitchell's own words. "You're not someone to just…'get in the way'…"

"Then what am I? Just your partner? Just a thug to help you along? What, Malori? Am I just nothing to you? Will you screw me over, like you've screwed so many others over? When we get to Ganymede, will you just run off and let me be killed?"

"Killed? You won't get killed, you-" she began, but Nash cut her off with his passionate words.

"Don't you understand them at all? I'm a sinner now, in their eyes. And I'm useless to them anyways. You are the one that's important, and if they kill me, then it would be more than convenience when you come running back."

"Nash…"

"Malori, we're going back. We're going back together. But this time…this time we must set things right again, and to do that, we need the help of those hunters that captured us. We have their files…their lives all on record. We can make them join us. We have our ways."

Nash had always been like that, since Malori knew him. Of course, he was one of the more emotion-filled men in the BHF, but there was something missing. He didn't quite care if he was cruel with the lives of others. As long as everything he wanted came out right in the end, he didn't care who he ran over to get it.

"…I'll get Faye. You get Spike. And…Jet isn't going to be any help to us. Don't worry about that, nor Ed. Are we okay on this?"

"Whenever have we let each other down?"

"You can work Faye while I'm fixing her ship…and likely I'll see Spike wandering around at that time."

"Right."

___~~~~~~___

Faye still stunk of beer. She had been too damn tired to even take a shower. But as she tried to get herself to sleep the night previous, she couldn't help but wonder the possibilities of what she could do to Spike. A genius plan had come to her. All she had to do was…

She wouldn't take that cruelty any longer, she was going to teach him a lesson. She stepped into his room, a can of grease from the repair room in her arms. Being as quiet as possible, she poured the contents onto the floor with precision, making sure her bare feet didn't get covered in the slippery liquid. He was sleeping silently, like a child, sprawled out upon the bed with his long limbs curling over the edges. Red boxers…good choice this time.  When he woke, he would surely slip on the slick floor. Spike wasn't ever really awake when he was awake. It was more like…sleepwalking.

Laughing to herself, she murmured, "Oh, Spike, Spike…too bad that I'm going to have to do this…I feel almost sorry for you that I made up this plan! But, oh, what a sight it'll be…you'll be sprawled out on that floor, maybe there will be a bit of blood…oh, Faye, you horrible woman…"

She moved the can of beer he had left at bedside onto the bureau, so he would obviously want a drink when he woke up. It was perfect…a great plan to get him back.

As she saw him stir, she ducked out of the room, leaning on the wall outside like a shadow and set the can on the floor. Now, for the second half of the plan. Covering her mouth with her hands, she began to let out a noise that would easily wake him. It was the  song that any military base would use to wake their men and women. 

He twitched, she saw out of the corner of her eye. Good, all as according to plan. He moved his feet onto the cold floor. With one step, he'd slip, she guessed. But as he stood, trudging across the floor in a zombie-like trance to his beer, he didn't slip once on the grease! He just stood at his bureau, unaware of the feeling beneath his toes, and chugged the rest of his beer. Then, he walked all the way back across without slipping, and fell back on his bed. 

"What the…" she mumbled, furrowing her brow. With that, she entered to see what the problem was. No, there was a full sheet of grease, complete with foot marks Spike had made. Maybe the grease wasn't slick, she mused. She then dipped her bare foot into the liquid, and upon contact, she dove directly towards the bed, the first place of safety.

At first, she knew that she'd land on the sleeping Spike. But…she hadn't. Spike had rolled over just as she slipped, and she just lied there for a long moment, breathing heavily. That was more than close…she knew, but she was safe. All she had to do was slip back over the grease…

But, no. Spike turned again in his sleep, his arm flipping over her body to trap her down. And now…now Faye was in deeper than she could handle swimming. Moving would cause her to wake him. But staying, he may wake up and see her there. It was a gamble, but she chose the latter. He would move again, she was sure. He was a man of unhealthy rest, one who couldn't sleep still all night. Nightmares haunted him, and he often would stay awake much of the night. 

"…j…ia…" he mumbled in a deep breath. Incoherent words…maybe he was calling for help in his dream. Maybe he wasn't even dreaming, just talking? She knew, though, that he usually had meaning to what he said in his sleep. And suddenly, he pulled Faye towards him, her side at his chest. "…ere…ave….been?" he mumbled some more, smiling a bit in his dream.

Faye's eyes went wide. Shit…not good. Not good AT ALL! She laid there, being held tightly by Spike's lanky, yet strong arms, her bare arms against his bare chest. What would she do now? She had to admit…it didn't feel bad having his arm around her, pulling her in. It was actually somewhat nice to be cared about in such a manner that had nothing to do with sexual drive. Yet, this wasn't care…just a dream that had him clutch to the nearest object, that happened to be Faye.

And suddenly, he stayed quiet. Faye watched closely as the man's expression turned to something she knew well. He was coming awake, his nostrils taking in deep whiffs of air. Before she could even slide from his arm, his brown eyes shot open.

"FAYE?!"


End file.
